Pain
by Ilandere Okami
Summary: Pain - without love, can't get enough, because they'd rather feel pain than nothing at all. Embark on a journey following the lives of six men and how fate intertwines their futures...Rated for drugs, sex, rape, abuse. LxM, LxL, MxM, BBxL, BBxN, MxN
1. Pain

**Author's Notes: HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MELLO!**

**I was watching random AMV's in my favorites list on YouTube, including one to "Pain" by Three Days Grace, for L and Light. And inspiration just **_**hit**_**. I had no idea how, but I wanted to make an LxLight fic centered on the song/based after it. But…I had no plotline whatsoever and couldn't decide if it should be canon or not, or lemony or not. So, then I thought about how I can't start working on another one-shot w/ all my other stories. But then again, Mello's birthday is right around the corner…^_- And thus starts a new trilogy for the Wammy Boys! Actually…**

**Welcome to my new birthday fic series. It's called Pain because it was the song that inspired it all and goes along w/ all of the characters. On all the birthdays for our fave main ((and not-so-main)) characters, I'll be posting a new chapter from their POV. Each chapter is named after a Three Days Grace song and has the lyrics to that one at the beginning, the lyrics to another at the end. Every story is interconnected and same w/ all the characters. Mello's is first for obvious reasons. Next up is Matt, who I think you'll all want to know the POV of from this…**

**There are many…odd pairings stemming from this. I can't say which ones are the "right" ones for the characters, but you might be able to figure it out. Just know: everyone's pretty miserable and all of these chapters will be full of angst. They're all taking place at the same time, too.**

**PS: No Misa because I forgot about her when I created the plotline to this. Sorry.**

**Warnings: MelloxLight, MattxNear, BBxL, BBxNear, MelloxMatt, LightxL. Anything else I need to explain? …Also, drug abuse and addiction. ((As I've said before, I don't know exactly what it's like, so I made up stuff and didn't go into specifics.)) Oh, and duh, sex…and rape. BTW, there is some comedy strewn throughout this. Laugh if you wish.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note or "Pain" by Three Days Grace.**

**~Pain~**

Pain

_You're sick of feeling numb  
You're not the only one  
I'll take you by the hand  
And I'll show you a world that you can understand  
This life is filled with hurt  
When happiness doesn't work  
Trust me and take my hand  
When the lights go out you will understand_

_Pain (pain) without love  
Pain (pain) can't get enough  
Pain (pain) I like it rough  
'Cause I'd rather feel pain than nothing at all_

~ "Pain" by Three Days Grace

**~Pain~**

As I stare down at the ground, my mind draws a blank. Why am I sitting on a wooden bench in the middle of a park? Why do I want to kill myself? Why are my hands numb?

Oh, yeah. I was dumped. Me, dumped, you say? I know, it mystifies me, too, but it's one hundred percent true. Dead of winter, dumped when I was about to propose. I'd taken off my gloves—my only, hole-strewn pair—to get at the damn ring out of my pocket, and didn't have time to snatch them when I ran for my life. It's not as if I _wanted_ him to see me crying.

Men don't cry, duh. At least, I couldn't…in front of a man like that. He was too good for me, wasn't he? He has a steady job, an apartment we shared, and only a slight addiction to cigarettes. Unlike me. I am a bum. I'd lost my job, moved in with him once I couldn't pay the rent on my apartment, and lost the rest of my savings on my drug addiction…and that damn ring. That was the last of my money…

Maybe I can pawn it. That could give me enough money to at least eat for a few weeks, even if I have to live off the streets and camp out in a gas station bathroom. Oh, and of course, my fix. Can't live without that, now, can we?

I can't feel my hands anymore. They are turning blue. And my breath isn't coming in easily. Is it me, or is there no oxygen left in the world? How long has it been since…? No, too long…Withdrawal…

My hands are still frozen numb, but the rest of my body starts screaming for more air. I can't breathe! And yet…I can still feel air whistling though my body, sending waves of sparking pain through my entire being. Then throbbing pain, just building and building until it is all I can feel. As if I am going completely numb, there is only one feeling…one agonizing sensation…I need that fix! Give it to me! Give me my life back, damn you!

So, I spent your money and mooched off you! So, I took advantage of you and raped you on more than one occasion! So, I had been dragged home more than often unconscious! So, I almost overdosed in your living room! So, I never said I loved you! That doesn't mean that I didn't really appreciate you! I still loved you! Just take back those biting words! Take me back and make me better! You think I like living like this?

I can't tell if I am sobbing or not, or if the cold against my cheek is the concrete or my own hand. I can't tell if it is day or night, winter or summer anymore. All I know is that I need him back to take care of me and stay with me for eternity. We are meant for each other, weren't we?

He needs me too, doesn't he?

I knew it! There he is, trying to get me back! No, let him work for it; I'm not taking that hand…

Then why does my arm try to reach up against my will and grab his hand? Where…where is he taking me? Home?

Arg! Another, stronger wave of pain, concentrating on my stomach. I can't handle it. I tried to be brave and strong, like he seems to be…carrying me now…but I just can't handle it.

**~Pain~**

My eyes open to brightness and a killer headache. But the rest of me seems to be gone. I can't feel a thing. The thought scares me. Am I a bodiless monster? No, I need that pain, need that feeling. Hey, where's my morning fix? It's usually on my nightstand, waiting for me; he leaves it there before he goes to work, knowing I won't be able to get out of bed to get it myself.

There is no nightstand on my right, either. No, it's on my left. This isn't right—no pun intended. I magically move an arm to the nightstand. The bed is too big for me to reach it. But then, I realize that I still have an arm to move, and a hand attached to it.

I look down to see the rest of my body still intact, just under a blanket. He must have covered me last night, right? I sigh in contentment until I realize that it isn't my sheet, my bed. And it's not his either. Where am I, then? This isn't good!

Was I kidnapped while incapacitated? Well, I do remember him taking me somewhere before passing out, but maybe it wasn't him? The guy sure looked like him…

Suddenly, nausea takes hold and I lean over the bed to puke, realizing there's a garbage can right beneath me. The stranger must have known I would barf. With a groan, I lie back in the bed. It's more comfortable than I'm used to, too.

I clutch my stomach in pain. Suddenly, all feeling comes back to me. I hate it too. It's not the right kind of pain.

"Oh, good, you're awake," I hear from the door. The voice isn't his. It's silky and smooth, but still warm and comforting. His voice is usually bored and gravelly…or screaming in agony.

I look over to see who this new guy is. He's standing in the doorway to the room I've never seen in my life. Arms crossed, his honey hair hiding his eyes—cut similarly to his, which is why I must've thought he was him. He doesn't look too friendly, but also not too cruel. Maybe I could stay here for a few days…

Another wave of throbbing pain goes through my body and I don't have enough time to get to the side of the bed before I throw up. The guy rushes over and holds my hair back as I puke on his bed, rubbing circles in my back. Once I'm done, he pulls me out of the bed bridal style and carries me to the same door he'd come from, into a bathroom. It's cramped, but he sits me on the closed toilet lid and cleans my face.

"I was running a bath for you before I heard you…um…throw up. Here, I'll help you and then I'll go change your sheets," he tells me. What's with this guy? Does he just randomly taken junkie strangers home and nurse them back to health or something?

I lie in the tub while he changes the bed sheets. I sort of feel sorry for him, having just puked all over white sheets. Then again, he should've known this was gonna happen.

Before I can sink all the way into the warm, comforting water, I notice a shampoo bottle in arm's reach. With a smile, I grab it. Even if the rest of me is lying in my own filth, there's nothing wrong with having luscious, clean hair. I haven't washed it in how long? No, I took a quick shower before I…never mind.

The shampoo is strawberry scented. Hmm…the guy out there really doesn't strike me as a strawberry kind of guy. But how am I supposed to really know? I just met him.

**~Pain~**

I had apparently slept for a full day and only had few more days of withdrawal left, another of those I slept all the way through as well. That day, however, was plagued with nightmares. Some of his last words to me, or old memories turned sour, or of a red-eyed demon taking away my fix.

The third day wasn't as painful as it could have been, but Light, as the guy had introduced himself, kept me company the whole time. I didn't really have the strength to talk, myself, and could barely keep down any food he gave me.

On my fourth day staying in his apartment, only slight aches held me back from being myself. Maybe I really didn't need that drug to keep me alive, keep me feeling good.

A week after my first day, and I was up and about, helping him with house-hold chores, making my own food when he went back to work. It didn't feel the same way as with…him. Sure, we still didn't talk too much, and I still mooched off Light, but there were no drugs or sex involved.

Dinner, one night, I just had to ask, though. "So," I start, scooping up some vegetables and shoving the disgusting things into my mouth. I chew and swallow begrudgingly before continuing, "Do you usually take home random druggies and take care of them until they're back on their feet, or did you just think I was too hot to pass up?"

He laughs and says, "While you _are_ pretty hot, no, that's not what usually happens."

"Then what does?" I question.

"You, Mello, are the second person I've ever done this with," Light explains. I stare at him, dumbstruck. Seriously? A sad smile takes over his face and he goes on, "I'd rather not talk about it, if you don't mind." Okay, touchy subject. I wonder what happened to the other guy… "Well, what about you, mister mystery?"

"Huh?"

"Why were you suffering on the streets if you seemed to have nice clothes and washed body and hair?" Oh, he's good. And it was true; I was wearing my good leather and nice puffy jacket with the fur-lined hood. Now, I was wearing extra clothes he had in "my" room: a baggy white shirt and blue jeans.

I hesitate before answering, "…My…my boyfriend…dumped me…"

"Oh, I'm sorry," he apologizes.

I scoff. "No need. That lousy son of a bitch, good for nothing, bastard didn't know what he had until he lost it! Fucking idiot, Matt, you're so dead next time I see you! Just give me my gun and you'll be six feet under before you know it!"

"Calm down, Mello!" Light cries as he takes hold of me, wrapping his arms around me, constraining my arms. I'd somehow stood in my blind fury rant. We're breathing heavily, me staring at my hands. For a second, they flash red, bloodstained.

No…I could never kill him. I still love him, no matter what.

I sit down again slowly, with Light's help. Once he thinks it's safe, he lets go and walks back to his seat. We continue eating in silence. It's not the comfortable silence of before, but filled with tension and unvoiced questions.

Eventually, as we're finishing our dinner, Light decides to ask, "Was…was he the one who gave you…?"

"Huh? Oh, no. I was addicted long before we met. I was just able to…hide it better…No, my connection was some underground guy…BB was his name," I answer. Light chokes on his water and spits it out. But no matter how much I ask what was wrong, he refuses to answer.

**~Pain~**

"Fuck you!" I shout, throwing a pillow at Light. Another week has passed. Light's started pestering me to get a job. He said I was capable enough to do that, now that I wasn't addicted to any fucking drug.

But if I go outside, then someone might be able to find me. What if BB found me, huh? What would he do? He'd probably shove something down my throat for free, knowing I'd pay double for more the next day. What if Matt saw me? He'd…he'd probably shove it in my face how much better off he was without my sorry ass. No, I couldn't leave Light's apartment.

"Fuck _you!_" Light shouts back, throwing the pillow back at me, as well.

I throw it onto my bed and spread my arms out, shaking my hips. "Then why don't you? I know you're just about ready to burst since your old lover left you! I mean, you still have all his clothes and shampoo and _toothbrush_ for Pete's sake!"

"Maybe I just should, you jackass! You're in need of a good dominance lesson! You think you own this place just because you started living here? Nuh uh! This is my fucking home and I'm in charge here!" Light screams back. He stomps towards me and shoves me. I fall onto the bed, not realizing what my words have caused.

"You fucking brat, you don't own anything. You know what?" Light holds my wrists above my head and snakes his free hand up my shirt. "I might as well be _your_ owner!" He laughs rather creepily and straddles my hips.

"Get off!" I scream, wriggling beneath him. But our position has already started to turn me on and the friction really isn't a good idea.

With that same laugh, he replies, "Not gonna happen. You're still a fucking junkie in my eyes, and that's never gonna change. So you might as well give up, you weak, slimy nothing. Just live with the fact that you'll never win against me." His hand leaves my chest and goes towards my pants.

"I said, get off, you ass!" I yell in protest. But then a shock of pleasure rockets up from my groin. Shit, he's making me too goddamn horny.

His hand holding my wrists squeezes and his nails dig into my skin. I gasp. My pants and boxers are easily slid off and I can't stop him.

There's no love behind his movements, no care. But the pain he causes me in the intense moments that follow is better than that numb overpowering me when he's not around.

Panting, I scream for more.

**~Pain~**

Another two weeks later, and a month has passed. Matt hasn't bothered trying to find me…as if he cares. I haven't bothered looking for a job. But as punishment, Light…keeps me company at night. I still fight him every step of the way. I don't get how he can be stronger than me, and why I enjoy it so much…but I guess it's better than nothing, right?

Hell, I still want Matt and his careful, tentative hands stroking my body, brushing my skin ever so gently. Man, that sounded so freaking sappy. But it's true. I mean, sure, Light's pretty good in bed…when I'm not pushing him too far, but he's not boyfriend material for me.

I'm not numb anymore, at least. Drugs are done. I have Light to keep me physically alive.

I keep that ring inside my nightstand drawer. It's not as if it's a secret; Light found it in my pocket when he undressed me the first night we "met." But I just need it; I can't get rid of it. It's my last memory of him and I don't want to lose him completely. As long as that ring is still there, then I know I'm alive and I know that I can live another day. I ain't dead yet!

Nursing my tender backside—that's what I get for calling his highness a "whiney little bitch" last night—I make my way to the kitchen. Light's already left for work and I'm left to my own devices once I wake up, as usual.

What's good for lunch?

The door buzzer sounds. Thinking Light had just forgotten his key, I buzz him up, as I have before. Sometimes, he's a little distracted in the mornings after a particularly…rough night. But the knock on the door sounds too tentative to be his once he reaches our apartment. Still, I waddle over to the door to open it for him. Maybe he's sorry for thoroughly destroying my asshole last night.

But what surprises me is that it isn't Light standing in the doorway. It's some creeper wearing the same white shirt and blue jeans that Light has an overabundance of in my room. I happened to have thrown on one of the matching outfits after getting out of bed just a little while ago, so we looked like twins.

No way, was this his old fuck buddy?

"Who the hell are you?" I question. My legs are sore; stop making me stand so long.

"I could be asking you the same question," he replies. His voice is monotonous, bored. It reminds me too much of Matt's. I want this guy to leave, dammit. "Where's Light?" he asks me.

Trying to get him to go away, I respond, "Not here." He stands there, waiting. "He's at work, now go away." I try to slam the door in his face, but he stops me by holding his hand against the door.

"Please don't tell Light that I stopped by. I've gotta get going now," he says before turning and walking away. His creepily pale hands are shaking and he has this horrid hunch. I also noticed insanely large bags beneath his dilated eyes. If Light tried to help this guy, he sure didn't do a good job. Relapse city.

Maybe it's a good thing I'm off drugs, if I used to look like that. I mean, look at me now—I'm hot! Light's even said so! Still…he's been with _that_ thing? Does he even have a _type_? I shudder but close the door behind me, ready to just relax and eat something for lunch.

As I sit, pain shoots up my spine. I groan, but relish it. It's so much better than the numb.

**~Pain~**

_I need to run far away  
Can't go back to that place  
Like she told me  
I'm just a big disgrace_

…

_Standing on my own  
Remembering the one I left at home  
Forget about the life I used to know  
Forget about the one I left at home  
So now I'm standing here alone  
I'm learning how to live life on my own_

~ "On My Own" by Three Days Grace

**~Pain~**

**Author's Notes: Man, I had a lot of fun writing that! I wrote this literally right after Thanksgiving. Yeah, I'm messed up. Anyways, next up will be Mattie, meaning you're gonna have to wait for about two months before you see his POV of this whole thing. I really like how this turned out. I know, there's no actual lemon, but I honestly didn't feel like it. I don't think it was needed. You got the picture, didn't you? And I just can't write a lemon between these two guys. I can't write something that freaking kinky!**

**Next up will be… "Over and Over" for Matt. Think on that!**

**Thank you for reading. I hope you've enjoyed this little…Bizarre Fest. And yeah, everyone except one's really been hinted/introduced. You obviously know who that is, but he'll appear next chapter. Until then, take my hand and I'll show you the beauty that is pain. MUAHAHA! ((BTW, BB will be getting his own chapter on L's death day next year. Seems appropriate and disturbing.))**


	2. Over and Over

**Author's Notes: ****Happy birthday, Matty! I'm sorry that you're not technically alive to celebrate, but…well…happy birthday, anyway!**

**Welcome to the second chapter of my birthday fic story, Pain. Today, we celebrate Matt's birthday with his side of the story Mello had last chapter. You'll realize quite a bit in this chapter, and also be introduced to the last of the characters being mentioned. I debated a lot at where to start the story off, and decided right before the breakup. You get a lot more info on that, like how it happened…and Matt's side of the story…^_-**

**Also, this is the first thing I am posting under my new penname. As you should know if you read my blog ((link in profile)), I've gone through an identity crisis and today's the day that I'm beginning to use my new penname, Ilandere Okami, instead of my old one, Zena Silverwing. Please don't be confused. That is all.**

**Warnings: Drug abuse, physical abuse, emotional pain, etc. Oh, and a bit of comedy. Just a few lines at one point; I couldn't resist.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Death Note or "Over and Over" by Three Days Grace. Nor do I own the song at the end, also by TDG.**

**~Over and Over~**

_So many thoughts that I can't get out of my head  
I try to live without you, every time I do I feel dead  
I know what's best for me  
But I want you instead  
I'll keep on wasting all my time_

_Over and over, over and over  
I fall for you  
Over and over, over and over  
I try not to  
Over and over, over and over  
You make me fall for you  
Over and over, over and over  
You don't even try to_

~ "Over and Over" by Three Days Grace

**~Over and Over~**

I stare at my friend in wonder. He can't be serious, can he? Can I really do something so…horrible? I mean, sure, I'm being tortured alive, here, but to actually kick him out onto the streets?

Near gives me a look that all but screams, 'Why are you questioning my judgment?' But, instead, he asks me, "What did he do yesterday?"

I sigh, but answer, "Same thing he does every day, sat around comatose and high. You were there; you saw."

He only shakes his head and replies, "But he doesn't realize I'm there. He barely knows you're around. He cannot comprehend what's happening when you bathe him, or when you force food down his throat…that he promptly throws back up…What did he do a week ago yesterday?"

With my eyebrows scrunched in though, I try to remember what had happened. Oh, yeah, I tried to forget about that…event. I refuse to answer, but Near continues to stare at me until I give in. His eyes can see all my secrets. And he heard it all. "We had sex," I say defensively.

Near scoffs. "Sounded more like rape to me."

"Shut up!" I pull my fist back, as a threat to punch the crap out of his pale face, but he cringes back. I have never actually laid a hand on him. He's my best friend, and has been for years. Recently, he's been pretty jumpy, though. Did he really take my action seriously?

I look out the window with a sigh. Will things ever go back to the way they were? I ask myself this too often, and have for too long. No, things will only get worse. That Near has convinced me of. He's so adamant about me breaking up with my boyfriend. I know he cares about me, and only wants what's best for me, but…I love Mello. I really do.

But, right now, I'm really running low on funds, can barely pay the bills, and have large amounts of cash suddenly disappearing left and right. My apartment always smells disgusting—and not of the cigarettes I smoke—and I often have to take care of Mello far beyond how a normal boyfriend should be taken care of. He's like a baby, now. I absolutely hate it. And sometimes, if he's horny, he takes me even though I scream at the top of my lungs that I don't want it and try to pry him off me.

I liked it when he and I made love, but that hasn't happened of at least a year now. And for the past month, Near has been living in the apartment as well. He sleeps on the couch when he can, and on Mello's bed when the guy's passed out on the couch. And if both places are either occupied or disgusting, there's an extra sleeping bag he uses in my room…but we find it awkward.

Still, Mello does not notice my friend. That is just the last straw. Mello knows that Near and I are friends, and I told him that he was moving in with us. But he never pays attention to me anymore. What's one more thing to tell him that he ignores…or doesn't register, really?

For once in God knows how long, the shower is running without either Near or me in it. Mello…is actually showering. Something must be up, or another drug was slipped into his stash or something. He can't be that aware of himself that he would actually shower.

When the water turns off, Near stands. "I'm going to go shopping. I think there's less than a carton of eggs and half a box of cereal left in this whole apartment."

"With _what_ money?" I cry. He knows I'm almost flat out broke, so the first time he went shopping for us, I was a little startled to find my wallet still full. He doesn't have a job right now—that I know of—but he somehow has money coming in from somewhere…or stashed away where nobody can find. I haven't questioned it before, but I'm just stalling the inevitable. I know he's leaving so Mello and I can be alone.

He pauses before finally sighing in defeat and answering me. "I…I…s-stole it…from Beyond."

So many thoughts flash through my head, but what comes out my mouth is, "Don't call that dick by his first name!"

Near's eyes flash with something akin to fear, but he turns away and stalks out of the house. Ever since he and BB began going out…that's when the rest of my world plummeted to its doom. If Near really thinks I don't know that that guy is a drug dealer then he undermines my thinking abilities. What did he see in him? And for that freak to just be able to toss poor Near onto the street with no reason?

Nothing is right; nothing is as it should be. Everything is just plain wrong and helpless.

Soon, Mello saunters into my room, hair finally completely washed, leather clothes loose now around his thin frame when they used to be so sexy and form fitting. There're still bags under his wild eyes, and he still seems slightly out of it, but for the most part…this is the most sober I've seen him in…months? A year? Longer…?

For a second, I think that Near was wrong and that I can't just dump Mello. But then I notice his eyes glancing towards my nightstand, where my wallet is sitting. I close my eyes, willing tears to stay away, and take a shuddering breath. "Mells?" I call out, using the pet name I haven't been able to use for too long.

He shakes his head, probably to clear it from his horrid thoughts, and looks at me. "Yeah?"

"Why don't we go for a walk?" What would he do if he were in my apartment at the time? Would I have an apartment left by the end? His face lights up and he runs to his room to grab his coat and boots, which I know are actually lying near the front door. He flies out of his room soon after entering and looks around the place until he spots his coat and boots. Why is he so excited? No…could he be changing? Did something happen that…?

No, I tell myself. It must be done. I can't fucking stand this anymore. And I'm _still_ sore from _last _week. A week and still in pain? That just goes to show how out of it he really was. He…he used to be gentle…

He struts out of the apartment, as if this was any normal date. My hands ball into fists inside my jacket pockets. I gave my gloves to Mello a while ago when he lost his. Or maybe he sold them…These were ratty and full of holes to begin with, so imagine them after a few months with Mello.

But still…he acts as if he's hiding something. He seems just a little too confident, as if he's hiding nervousness behind his overconfident mask.

We walk aimlessly, though we both end up leading each other towards the nearby park. Before we can enter the large park, however, I stop him. He tries to drag me towards a bench just inside of the entrance, but I just can't sit down. I could get too comfortable, or I would be unable to run as easily.

"Mello, listen," I sigh, forcing tears back. My hand takes his wrist—too skinny; I hate it—and spins him around to face me.

There's a glow in his eyes, some type of happiness. And that makes me realize, he must know what I am going to do and is just waiting. He must know that I am running out of money and he's the problem. So…he's waiting for me to dump him so he can go find another helpless sap to suck dry! That bastard!

He pulls his gloves off hastily and they fall to the ground. Like he cares; they're a gift from me and he won't need them anymore. His hands plunge back into his pockets and I realize now is the time. I have to say it.

"We're through. Never come back to my apartment. I'll use your stuff to pay back all the money you stole. Goodbye." I turn on my heel and head back home. It's done. I'm free! Then why do I feel such a pang in my chest just as I hear heavy stomps running away from me?

**~Over and Over~**

The walk home took a lot longer than I meant it to. But…I just couldn't help but stop at random intervals and turn around, ready to run back to Mello, help him home, and take care of him. But then I kept telling myself that this was better for me, and that's what matters now. He only cares about himself, so why should I care about him?

Just because I want to see those wild eyes find mine and hypnotize me, so that I can warm the ice in them and we can love each other can…Just because I want to hold his frail body close and tell him that everything will be better soon and I love him…Just because I want to be held in those arms and be kissed hungrily and with passion…Those are no reasons to come crawling back to that beast.

Mello, my boyfriend, my lover, the love of my life, is gone. All that's left is a shell. An empty shell that holds no more compassion and love for me, only a need for that damn drug!

Near is putting away the groceries by the time I get back. He looks at me expectantly, but all I can do is shoot him what I hope is a dirty look, though I think it looks more helpless and depressed than I mean it to be. I head straight for my room and slam the door behind me, locking it for good measure. I don't want anyone to disturb my moping, even Near.

What have I done? Sure, I was going to kill myself in the end if he didn't end up killing me…And Near had totally convinced me and the way Mello was just so happy about the breakup it seemed like…I still feel like the biggest bastard on Earth for doing that do him in a time of need.

That's the one thing that I don't get. How could I have just let it go? I was such a fucking enabler; it's not even funny. I just let him steal my money and get his drugs and come home high and even be dragged in, unconscious, by random people off the streets. God, how could I have been such a horrible boyfriend? I helped him, cleaned him up, let him live here and take my money. Hell, I even let him rape me! But the one thing I didn't do was save him.

I really wish I could have. Then, maybe, I could still have him…What would've happened if I had hidden my money better? No, he'd pawn things.

What if I had actually forced him off the drug and through withdrawal? Would he…would he have been kissing my neck right now tenderly, getting ready to go out on a date? We could've gone out for hot chocolate or something…

I sigh in utter defeat. I am defeated. I'm done. I'm empty, just like Mello.

**~Over and Over~**

I wake up to screams of agony. Yet again. Near's having one of his nightmares…again. He absolutely refuses to tell me what they're about, but I'm almost certain they have something to do with that bastard, BB. I wish he would just tell me! I'm his best friend, for fuck's sake!

With a heavy sigh, I heave myself out of bed, dragging one of my sheets with me—the apartment cools to almost freezing during the night and I can't fix it. I knock on Near's bedroom door out of courtesy. God, it used to be Mello's door. How can I be so horrible as to be able to call it Near's so easily?

Oh, right, Near. He, of course, doesn't answer, and I step right on in. It's my apartment anyway. And I'm freaking tired. It's around two a.m. and I want sleep. How many weeks has it been since he started having the nightmares? Five? It took a week of staying here, away from that monster before they started. Ha, they didn't even wake Mello…I shake my head in disgust. I have to stop thinking about him. It's been two weeks. He's gone.

"Near?" I call into the darkness. He doesn't answer, but I hear a whimper.

I stumble over a few toys he has lying around—he's been buying more and more with the money he stole from BB in the past few weeks. Somehow, I think they give him comfort. Either way, they're not very comforting to my poor toes.

When I reach the bed, I turn on the lamp on the nightstand to see Near in a fetal position, arms covering his whole face. "No!" he screeches to the light suddenly invading the room. This is normal, too.

I sigh and gingerly sit on the edge of his bed. I try to say in the most soothing voice I can manage when I can barely form coherent sentences it's so early, "Near, buddy, it's alright. It's just Matt. I'm here for you." He visibly relaxes at my words. I still won't dare touch him…until his arms unfold from his face completely and he looks me in the eye.

"Matt?" he questions. It's not so much to ask me a question as it is to confirm I'm really here.

"I'm right here, Near…" I coo, leaning forward and spreading my arms. He pushes himself off the bed and wraps his own arms around my chest. We hold each other in a tight embrace, neither of us willing to let go. Whatever nightmares plague him, I want to stop them from coming and torturing him like this. And he knows how crushed I still am about…yeah…

This has become almost nightly. And I'm fine with it. His body is always cold against my own, and his hair tickles my face, but I still let him hold me until his eyes close again and he falls into a dreamless sleep. I lay him back down and think I'm about to leave when I realize my arms are caught under his body and his arms are still wrapped around me. I sigh…again…and lay down myself. Maybe a few minutes wouldn't hurt…

**~Over and Over~**

My head hits the wall behind me as I lean too far back in my chair. "Ow…" I mutter, landing my chair back on all four legs again and rubbing the back of my head.

"What did I tell you about doing that?" Near questions, turning around so I can see him in his normal white garb…and a spatula in hand.

Now that I don't have Mello around, stealing my money, I'm making a steady income again. A month has passed now, and I've gotten two paychecks. Both of which are still mostly in tact…for once. We tried living off BB's money for as long as possible, but Near's toy…fetish—don't tell him I said that—sort of…ran that dry. At least, now that he would have to use _my_ money to pay for everything, he's slowed down.

His room's floor is covered with toys, games, and puzzles. I'm trying to save up to get a cheap gaming system, probably from eBay. But what's weird is that Near refuses to go out of the house except to the store to get more food for us. Honestly, I still think it has something to do w/ his ex, but maybe something else happened, too. Either way, he refuses to tell me anything.

Since that night two weeks ago, Near's been sleeping in my room…in my bed. He said he hadn't woken up that relaxed in months. Hmm…ever since BB came into his life? Believe it or not, but he's actually really comfy to sleep with, almost like a teddy bear. And he smells nice…

After breakfast, I grab my coat and boots and get ready to leave for work. We say our good-byes, I kiss him on the cheek, and then I'm out the door. Once I shut it behind me, I pause before locking. That's the third time I've done that, and he hasn't protested…

It's almost as if we're husband and wife—sorry, husband. I personally would rather not be that committed to a relationship…especially with a woman, duh, but it really makes me think. I lock the door and head to the stairs. Aren't broken, already crappy elevators lovely?

My car died again the other day, so I'm left to walking to work in the bitter cold. My walk shouldn't take me by the park if I know what's good for me. Obviously, I don't.

I keep glancing around me, especially behind me, to see if he's still here, just dragging behind. But I only see strangers surrounding me. I glance inside the park entrance when I reach it, but the bench where we had almost sat before is occupied by a pair of incestual twins. I shudder in disgust and quickly walk away. What is this world coming to?

Mello's not there. He won't be there, I know. But…is it that bad to wish for him to be there? Is it so bad to want him back in my arms, home with me again? Is it that bad to _still_ prefer him over Near?

Oh, God…Near. He's my best friend—that I know for sure. But what else is he to me, now? We have only kissed the same way I left him this morning. We only snuggle together at night. But he cooks and shops for me. Still, I did all that for Mello before. The role switching is pretty odd, but it feels natural, too.

I stop in my tracks. I _have_ to stop thinking about him! He's gone from my life, nothing to me anymore! I don't need him anymore, if I ever did. He only hurt me by the end. I hope he's found someone else to torture, dammit!

A tear leaks from my eye and I just continue walking before I can actually collapse to the ground. I still can't let him go.

**~Over and Over~**

_We had fire in our eyes  
In the beginning I  
Never felt so alive  
In the beginning you  
You blame me but  
It's not fair when you say that I didn't try  
I just don't want to hear it anymore_

_I swear I never meant to let it die  
I just don't care about you anymore  
It's not fair when you say that I didn't try  
I just don't care about you anymore_

~ "Let It Die" by Three Days Grace

**~Over and Over~**

**Author's Notes: This was longer than Mello's and I didn't even realize it. I guess…Matty just has more to say? Haha, anyways, I had a blast writing this. Several times while writing, I paused and thought, "Wow, I can actually write something from this POV w/o ever being in this position." And then I realized, "I've gotten really far w/ my writing, haven't I?" It made me feel good.**

**The role reversal thing I realized while writing, and thought it was really interesting. Seems Mello's gone through the same thing w/ Light, right? Interesting…I wonder if all the others have as well? O.O**

**And, just 'cause I'm addicted to my AP Psych class, there is no such thing as a dreamless sleep. We all experience REM sleep, where we dream. Or else, our long-term memories will fail us. So, most just can't remember their dreams unless awoken in the middle of REM sleep and forced to explain their dreams. Hehehe…*sweat drop* Sorry for the little lesson there…**

**Also, did you get the mention of other characters? I won't say where it was, or who it was, but you guys can probably guess pretty easily. So, now you also get a hint at what's up in the future, huh?**

**Next up…"It's All Over" for Light ((posting on his birthday, Feb 28)). ^-^ Hmm... I wonder why? Finally, we get another part of the story's POV! Heehee...Remember, every single person is intertwined somehow…**


	3. It's All Over

**Author's Notes: I wish Light a very happy twenty-fifth birthday in Mu! ((And, if you've read my b-day fic for him last year, then I hope he enjoys today more than his last birthday…^_-)) And I finished this past midnight this morning because I couldn't find any inspiration until too late. Haha, sorry 'bout that…**

**Now, finally, you guys get another part of the story. Light's story is quite…different. Of course, it is full of pain and centered around another person, like the others', but he's one of the only characters without a drug addiction. In fact, you already know that he nurses both L and Mello back to health from **_**their**_** drug addictions. He has a nice, large apartment, as well. And no, you will never find out what drug Mello was addicted to, just that it's not heroin or cocaine.**

**As with Matt's, I had trouble deciding when to start the chapter, and ended up choosing the same day. Nevertheless, I swear Near, L, and BB's will all start beforehand, all three on a different day from the first three, but the same for them. If that makes sense. Splitting up the story, I guess. ^-^'**

**Warnings: Drug abuse, sexual abuse, rape-like situations, violence, etc. Oh, and loads and loads and shitloads of mental pain…KYAHAHA! Oh, and I apologize in advance for a lot of the scenes being exactly the same as the ones in Mello's chapter, but they were key times for Light, as well!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the songs "Pain" or "It's All Over" by Three Days Grace, or the song appearing at the end, also by them. I do, however, own this idea.**

**~It's All Over~**

_You know this can't go on  
Because of you my mind is always racing  
The needle's breaking your skin  
The scar is sinking in  
And now your trip begins but  
It's all over for_

_It's all over for  
You  
For you  
When you're on the edge and falling off  
It's all over for  
You  
For you  
When you're on the edge and falling off  
It's all over_

~ "It's All Over" by Three Days Grace

**~It's All Over~**

Recently, I've only left my apartment for work. I mean, what's the point of going out and doing anything when there's nobody with whom to do said anything? Of course, we rarely left home together anyway…He was always too afraid.

Oh, God, it's all my fault, isn't it? I had convinced him to try to find a job, see if he could come back into the real world. And look where that got him? Of course, it had to be my fault. He wasn't meant to have a good life, was he? Neither am I, apparently…

But boredom can destroy even the best of resolves…Though it wasn't really a resolve not to go outside, just a logical thought process.

My feet carry me across the city. The air is crisp and cold, but better than the encompassing heat back home. The wind bites at my face, but it clears my head of memories that were…less freezing, to say the least.

I look up from my feet and the sidewalk beneath them to see the entrance to a park. I don't know what comes over me; I must think there's a connection to the park and him, but I know there isn't. We didn't meet in a park, but the parking lot of a fast food place. He was being kicked out for trying to coerce the cashier to give him a free meal. He looked like crap and was shaking uncontrollably. His skin—where his battered and torn clothes weren't covering—was covered in scratch marks…that I later learned were his own doing.

At that time, all I could see, though, were his eyes. They were hollow, dead, grey orbs begging for freedom.

He had crawled to me and latched onto my sports jacket. I couldn't shake him off as he pleaded for money. I refused to give him any; he looked like a drug addict and money only means one thing to them—their fix.

One look at him and I had lost my appetite—it was my lunch break and I hadn't gotten my paycheck yet, so cheap was the way to go—so I tried getting back to my job…but he kept following me. My looks of disgust didn't register in him.

"Please!" he cried, trailing behind me. "Just enough for one meal! What kind of drug can a person buy with that little of money, I ask you?" He wouldn't give in. The more he followed me, the farther we got, the more his shaking body couldn't control itself. More than once, he had to stop to clutch some part of his body—usually his stomach—in pain before catching up to me again. When I had almost reached the salvation of my work building—and security guards—he had finally collapsed.

I turned around to see that he was convulsing on the pavement, sweat covering his skin. I had taken a step closer and could hear him whine, "I ran away! Why can't you set me free? Get away from me, you dirty beast!" It all seemed like nonsense, but what caught me was that…he sounded like he had been running away from the drug. He was trying to get clean.

But it was wrong of me to take him to the hospital and let him go through withdrawal there. It was wrong of me to take him home afterwards to take care of him. And it was wrong of me to stare into those lifeless eyes boring into me.

"Gah! Get away! Matt! Come back!" Someone's shouting wakes me from my memories. As if on instinct, I run towards the blond man on the ground. His leather shirt seems ill suited for this weather. His hands are turning blue and I try to reach toward him, asking if he's okay. He doesn't seem to hear me, but continues sobbing, body pulling away from the hand reaching towards my own.

I pull him up and into my arms, carrying him bridal style. What is wrong with me? Had I not already gone through this once already? I know what's going on and I know what will happen. But his eyes scare me with their burning intensity and I feel like I have no choice but to carry him onto a bus and then into my apartment.

He's unconscious by the time we enter, but I easily lay his light frame onto…_his_ old bed. I shudder at the similarity of the situation. I hate it, but I still change his clothes and study his body and skin for track marks. With a sigh of relief, I realize it's not heroine, but a lighter drug—if any drug can be considered "light."

**~It's All Over~**

I spend the next day watching the guy and wondering what the hell I was thinking taking him home. What can I do with a junkie lying in his bed? Only bad can come of this; I can't stop thinking about the past. Of course, I couldn't stop thinking remembering when alone, either. Maybe all I need is a new boyfriend?

But I can never find someone as perfect as him. Let's just see where this goes, I guess.

I decide to bathe the guy, even though he is still unconscious. He didn't even have a wallet on him when I searched his clothes, so I don't know his name. I draw the bath while I wonder this. No wallet and no ID, but a pretty expensive-looking ring in his pocket. An engagement ring, by the looks of it. Was he stood up? Did his fiancé dump him?

When I'm about done filling the tub, I hear the blond throwing up in the other room. I sigh, but thought this would happen and left a garbage can by the side of the bed. Hopefully, he actually is using it. I head towards the bedroom, knowing this is now a perfect time to give him a bath. I stand in the doorway of the room, watching him for a second as he breathes heavily.

"Oh, good, you're awake," I call out, pretending to not have heard his previous noises, as he looks ashamed of having that momentary weakness. He quickly looks at me with worried and curious eyes. I can understand; they're the same eyes he gave me when he woke up in that hospital bed as well as this same bed.

He stares at me for a few moments before another wave of nausea causes him to throw up again…onto the bed. I know it's disgusting, but he looks so pathetic; I rush over and hold his long hair away from his face. The hair's stringy and straight, no grease overpowering it and causing it to stand up on end like his. My hand unconsciously goes to his back to rub circles. I don't mean to, but I'm just really still used to it from the past. Months passed since I had to, but in the back of my mind, the action was still there.

Finally, he finishes and I know I must get him off this bed so I can clean the sheets. Luckily, I already have the bath ready. I carry him to the bathroom, now warm and steamy from the hot water sitting in the tub. I'm not going to let him sit in his own barf, so I sit him on the closed toilet lid and clean his face.

"I was running a bath for you before I heard you…um…throw up. Here, I'll help you and then I'll go change your sheets," I tell him before helping him into the tub. I internally shudder at having just touched the stranger's puke and now having to touch it again on the sheets.

I leave him to himself so he can clean without having me watch while I do as I said and strip his bed. I quickly leave my apartment to bring them into the laundry room down the hall and then head back to put on a new set of sheets—always for emergency.

Eventually, I help him out of the bathroom and give him a clean pair of clothes to change into. I can tell he dislikes the baggy shirt and jeans, as he had been wearing leather before, but this is the best I've got on such a short notice—his old clothes…

As he's pulling on the jeans that are just as baggy on him as they were on…never mind, I finally introduce myself, "I'm sorry for not saying anything before. I'm Light Yagami. You may call me Light. You didn't have any ID on you—not that I was rifling through your pockets, of course—so…"

"Mello," he says simple and roughly. "Just Mello."

**~It's All Over~**

I had already taken a sick day so I could be sure to be with Mello when he woke up. A few more sick days wouldn't matter. I still did most of my work at home so I could be prepared for when I went back to work. I stayed with him and helped him through the tough few days of withdrawal.

A week later, I was able to convince him to help around the apartment with cleaning and whatnot, and have him make his own food and take care of himself as I went back to work. Things aren't too different from the beginning I had with…him. But there is no underlying sexual tension that was quickly resolved—that can sense right now—or any feelings of family and love inside this apartment.

No, those are all left outside, in the world that has hurt me and no doubt destroyed him.

Still, I wonder what had happened to him that caused him to be all alone out there, torturing himself. _He_ had run away from his boyfriend and heroine. From what had Mello run away? Or had somebody run away from him?

My answer is given finally one night at dinner. First, of course, comes the painful part for me. Since Mello has started staying with me, I've thought less and less about the past and about him, but he has a funny way of turning up at the most impromptu times.

"So," he begins before taking a bite more to eat. I continue eating, thinking it is just going to be some random question, like what my job is or when is the real food—meaning chocolate, for him—coming. Instead, he goes on to say, "Do you usually take home random druggies and take care of them until they're back on their feet, or did you just think I was too hot to pass up?"

I laugh. After all, he does have a way of making his situation seem comical. "While you are pretty hot, no, that's not what usually happens." One hundred percent true. I do find him attractive, hot, and with pheromones radiating off him now that the drug's out of his system and he's not curled up in a little ball on his bed.

But he just has to press further. "Then what does?"

I explain, trying to avoid giving anything away, "You, Mello, are the second person I've ever done this with…I'd rather not talk about it, if you don't mind," I continue with a sad smile gracing my face. I don't want to think about him. I don't want to remember him anymore. Maybe Mello can't take his place, but I can sure as hell see where this goes.

In fact…now seems like the perfect time to find out more. "Well, what about you, mister mystery?" I question. After all, I don't even know his full name. He is a complete mystery to me.

"Huh?" Is he avoiding the question or really wasn't paying attention?

I repeat, "Why were you suffering on the streets if you seemed to have nice clothes and washed body and hair?" His leather was too nice and his body—especially his hair—even _smelled_ clean that day.

He hesitates and I know this must be a touchy subject for him, too. "…My…my boyfriend…dumped me…" he finally gets out.

Wow, we're too similar at this moment. My boyfriend runs away and relapses and his boyfriend dumps him outright, leaving him on the streets. "Oh, I'm sorry," I decide to say, hoping to ease the depressing mood seeping through the kitchen.

Nevertheless, he scoffs. Interesting… "No need. That lousy son of a bitch, good for nothing bastard didn't know what he had until he lost it! Fucking idiot, Matt, you're so dead next time I see you! Just give me my gun and you'll be six feet under before you know it!"

"Calm down, Mello!" I cry as I wrap my arms around his chest, pinning his arms to his sides. He had stood in rage while he ranted on about this Matt guy.

After a few minutes of just heavy breathing, adrenaline leaving our systems, I help him sit down again and we go back to a tension-filled dinner.

He really has hard feelings towards Matt. But…I had found that ring in his jacket, meaning he did love the guy…What had caused their breakup? But then again…another thought invades my mind and I just have to ask, "Was…was he the one who gave you…?"

He looks up, confused. "Huh? Oh, no. I was addicted long before we met. I was just about to…hide it better…No, my connection was some underground guy…BB was his name."

I choke on the water I am drinking and spit it out, some spurting across the table and some just falling straight into my now waterlogged food.

BB? He got his fix from BB? That fucking bastard gave me another man to take care of? _He's_ the one who destroyed another person's relationship? I want to claw his eyes out. I want to hunt him down, burn down his drug-filled home, beat the fuck out of him, and then take back my L!

How could he _do_ this to people? How can he just hand over addictive substances in exchange for shitloads of money, only to end up causing these people to lose everything they love and care about?

Mello won't shut up about my reaction and I finally leave the table, refusing to answer. I lock myself in my room and sit on the edge of my bed, head in my hands and elbows on my knees.

L…my God…L…

I don't mean for the tear to leak from my eye, but it does.

All I can think about is the time I spent with him, with my lover. He truly did love me…and tried so hard for me. He was so scared to go outside, afraid that BB might find him and force him under again. Somehow…somehow I had convinced him to go outside. A walk would do him good…a bit of fresh air…

It's all my fault I came home more than once to see him sobbing, a needle ready in wait or something similar…He could never do it…but he came so close…He wouldn't do it…because of me…

And then, one day, I come home and he's still out. I think he's just out on a walk, even though it's not the normal time he goes. I wait for him, hoping to relieve some work tension after going a whole week with too long of work hours that forced me to sleep most of the time I'm home.

I wait for hours and my hopes die just as quickly as I realize this could only mean one of two things: Either my love has relapsed and suffered an overdose…or BB, the son of a bitch, has gotten his nasty claws on him again. Or both…

He had run away from that horrid monster, run away from the drugs that kept him heaven inside a hell. And I had found him, took care of him, and loved him and look where that got us! Back to square one.

L didn't deserve my love if he caved that easily. And BB doesn't deserve L if he continues to kill so many innocent people…and their loved ones…

Does Mello not realize it's probably BB's fault Matt dumped him? BB, the one who gave him his fix, was also the one that tore him away from his boyfriend, his love. He destroyed his life…and brought him straight to me…again.

How long will this relationship last now?

**~It's All Over~**

Three weeks later, and I realize that maybe having a new boy here isn't that bad…

I push deep inside Mello, relishing the warm, tight feeling. He'd never been on the receiving end until that night two weeks ago he had pushed me too far. I had been trying to convince him he needs to get a job and not mooch off me as he had definitely done Matt. I'm a different person and take shit from no one—especially someone who thinks he owns my apartment after _I_ saved _him_.

He cries out in pain and then lets his legs pull me in even deeper. God, all I can do is moan in pleasure.

Mello never knew what he was missing. After all, he doesn't look like he would ever be dominated. That's what I love even more about the sex we have. It's all about dominance. More specifically, my dominance over his highness.

He continually harasses me and pushes me, but I have a feeling it's all because he knows what will happen now that the dams have broken and I can use his body as I please.

No, he can never replace L…can't even come close. I can never share my deepest secrets with him, and vice-versa. But what is shared is a mutual feeling of pain…We give it and release it through each other. It's not abuse, it's not an addiction—and if it is, it's not an unhealthy one.

What we have is a new life, a new world…I'm not alone anymore, trapped in nightmares of memories. Sure, I still sometimes wonder about him. I mean, who wouldn't? I do wish I have L back sometimes, but I've learned that I can't and will never, so there's no use in "what if's."

Sometimes, I hear Mello praying at night, though he would never admit it to me. He wants Matt back just as much as I refuse to admit I want L back. But we have each other now, and he knows that as well.

Our lives have ended and restarted anew. Neither of us truly loves it or each other. But I do enjoy the time I spend with him. He does bring a smile to my face, the one I'd lacked for quite some time.

Two months since that horrible day, and I'm finally able to laugh again and not stare at my feet every time I walk anywhere. I leave my apartment for walks, just some fresh air…avoiding seedy parts of the city, obviously.

Just because Mello refuses to leave doesn't mean that I should force him to get a job, I guess. What if he's taken back, too? I refuse to allow that. He's mine now, and I'm not letting go.

With a loud scream, he comes, causing me to reach my orgasm as well, taking in that beautiful, submissive face of his. I collapse on top of him with a drawn-out sigh. Yeah, my world isn't over, not by a long shot. It's only still beginning…

**~It's All Over~**

_The world we knew  
Won't come back  
The time we've lost  
Can't get back  
The life we had  
Won't be ours again_

…

_Even if I say  
It'll be all right  
Still I hear you say  
You want to end your life  
Now and again we try  
To just stay alive  
Maybe we'll turn it all around  
'Cause it's not too late  
It's never too late_

~ "Never Too Late" by Three Days Grace

**~It's All Over~**

**Author's Notes: Sorry it took so long to put in L's name for the first time. I just couldn't find a proper place for it until that. As you see, the scenes stretch in different ways, but with the same dialogue. I really liked how I made Light's reaction to BB. After all, he was pretty proper for most of the story so far, almost snobbish. And then BB is mentioned and he goes off swearing in his head nonstop! Haha...**

**Get the connection to Light calling Mello "his highness"? I always say that Mello and Light's personalities are so similar, they clash. That's what makes them either the worst of enemies or the best of friends...or the most kinky and violent of lovers...*drools* Speaking of that scene, I decided you guys could probably guess Light's thoughts through his dialogue for the scene where he first has sex with Mello, so I skipped that and actually went straight to a little bit after the day L comes by. I still refused to give a full-out lemon, but knew I needed that sex in there...**

**Have you caught on to the fact that each guy's last line doesn't have to do with the second song, but the first? Mello's is about not being numb anymore, Matt's about not being able to get over Mello ((in so many words)), and Light's is about how maybe it's all over for L, but not him! ^_-**

**I hope you've enjoyed Light's chapter. Next is Near with "I Hate Everything About You." Well, that sure gives a lot more away. Also, remember, next chapter is starting on a different day! And holy fuck, you won't be seeing that update until August! I am so fucking sorry, guys, but that's when Near's birthday is…In the meantime, make all the speculations you want; almost everything has been revealed.**

**I'll see you again in six months. In the meantime, reviews are welcomed and why don't you check out my other stories? ((Shameless advertising…XP))**


	4. I Hate Everything About You

**Author's Notes: Guess who totally almost forgot it was Near's bday, what with school starting today? Yes, it's almost midnight. Luckily, I made it. This was written over a month ago, so we're all good.**

**Well, it's been quite a while, hasn't it? This story still isn't as popular as I wish it would be, but oh, well. Today is Near's birthday, and I guess I should wish him a happy birthday…*sigh* I hate him. Anyways, I don't hate him in this story. In fact, I feel sorry for his tortured little ass. So, happy birthday, Near! You're officially twenty! Wow…And the only living person this fic is written for. Man, you're one lucky son of a bitch.**

**Finally, we're on a different day! This starts about a month before the previous three chapters started. L and BB's will also be starting on this day for obvious reasons. This will also go about as far out as the other three, each probably doing that. So, in essence, you're actually getting more for these three than the last three. ^_-**

**Along that note, this is insanely long compared to the others, and I can't promise L and BB's will be this long. It's just…I guess either I kept rambling or there was a hell of a lot to pack in compared to the others'. Sorry if it annoys you or whatever…**

**Warnings: Physical, emotional, and sexual abuse. Mentions of drug abuse. Extremely angsty thoughts. And Near is beyond OOC, I think. But I sort of like it; after all, these are only his thoughts. On the outside, he's probably the same Near you saw with Matty.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note or any Three Days Grace songs. I do own this story idea, however.**

**~I Hate Everything About You~**

_Only when I stop to think about you  
I know  
Only when you stop to think about me  
Do you know_

_I hate everything about you  
Why do I love you  
You hate everything about me  
Why do you love me_

_I hate  
You hate  
I hate you  
Love me!_

~ "I Hate Everything About You" by Three Days Grace

**~I Hate Everything About You~**

With heavy breaths, I spit out blood from my mouth. My tongue must have a deep gash from my teeth biting it, but I will just have to let it heal. I can't go to the bathroom because he is blocking my only escape. I can see the pure hatred in his eyes and yet…

Why is there always that compassion, deep underneath the raw rage and hatred and contempt? It's only when he looks at me, at my eyes, at my body late at night…But it's there all the same.

"You're not leaving this room," he says, venom coating his words. The angrier he is, the more nasal his voice becomes. Today, he is pissed.

I nod my head in understanding and he nods once in approval of my submissive actions, including how I'm sitting on the floor of our bedroom. He pauses before closing the door, deciding to walk towards me. Instinctively, I cringe away. He notices, but says nothing, only smirks. Once he is standing right above me, he leans down to take some of my hair in his hands. His dirty fingers rub it lovingly before he pulls it and pushes my head backwards.

"I hate your hair," he growls. "What is fucking wrong with you?" From my position on the floor, my elbows supporting me slightly, his own greasy black hair shadows his eyes. I can't see them at all, no glowing red at all.

I could continue to stare straight at where his eyes should be, or I could squeeze my eyes shut and turn my head away, hoping he'll leave me alone soon so he may go and do his business. I vie for the latter.

His chuckles echo in my ears, their crazed sounds sending shivers up my spine. "You're such a fucking coward," he sneers before I hear him slam and lock the door shut. His footsteps sound throughout the house until the front door closes and locks as well.

At first, the weight on my shoulders recedes. I can feel the freedom of the house to myself, of him not being here for a while. It's like any normal evening, but I know that he'll be out longer tonight. Otherwise, he wouldn't have threatened me before locking me in here.

And that's when the constricting in my chest pulls me into the fetal position. I can't escape the room; he recently put in a new lock after I figured out how to pick the old one and this one requires more than what I have on hand…and is on the other side of the door only.

But not only that…he's on one of his missions. Ever since we started dating, I've noticed him going out every once in a while for much longer than other nights, leaving earlier and not taking all of his normal "merchandise." He always goes a little more maniac and comes home to fuck me until I can't even lie down on my ass for days.

And I know he's looking for that lucky bastard that left him. He was able to escape, even when high out of his mind most of the time. I'm usually completely sober, and yet…I'm stuck. I'm such a fucking failure.

The worst is…I don't want him to find the ass that I replaced. I don't want him to find him and for me to lose…everything. It's the nights he comes home with a good profit, the days he doesn't feel like sleeping, the allowance he gives me for my monthly free day. I don't spend most of the money, hording it for something big or important, though I've yet to figure out what. I buy a confection here, a small toy there, or an extra meal often times…

Everything he does, unless his mind is on the bastard, is for me, I know. I know he cares about me, deep down. It's just hard for him to express his feelings, always was. For one, he hasn't tried to force a needle to my arm or powder to my nose after my first few refusals. Sure, those turned into fights and I wound up with a black eye or broken arm or knife-wound to the leg, but now, he doesn't try anymore.

The bastard broke him, is all. He used to probably be perfectly fine. Sure, his house has hidden stashes of numerous types of drugs and every last electronic, piece of furniture, and crumb of food is bought off drug money, but everyone has to make a living, right? The blood that coats his walls like fine art could only have appeared after he was dumped so wretchedly.

And he only found me because we have the same eyes…

I don't notice I'm crying until the tears start to sting a cut I didn't realize I had on my cheek. I wipe away the weakness and stand, knowing I can't wait like that for him. The overlarge socks encasing my feet drag across the wooden floor as I tread towards the mirror above the dresser.

There are several cracks in the mirror and a few shards are completely missing. Dried blood is forever painted over the glass in the upper corner, but I ignore all that to look at myself. My hand reaches to my scalp to see where the small clump of hair was pulled out. I sigh at the sight, knowing that will be hard to fix. Haircuts are too expensive and I don't want to waste my allowance. It'll grow out again, as it always does.

He hates my hair. He hates it beyond anything else about me. Because it's not as pitch black as the alleys he works, because it's not that bastard's hair…because it's white. And I hate it too. But I can't just dye it and he knows it. One more dye-job and it'll all fall out. I bleached my hair the last time I tried dying it black because…it didn't go very well.

Ignoring my hair again, I notice dull grey eyes looking back at me. He complains about that, too, when in a particularly hateful mood. They're not dark enough; they're not deep enough.

And they aren't. They can never be perfect for him. Hell, I can never be perfect for him! I step away from the mirror, hands clutching at my head. I stagger backwards until I trip over a jam jar. Oh, how I fucking hate all that jam he consumes! The sweet taste in his mouth sends putrid fumes down my throat whenever we kiss after he's consumed a jar.

Getting up onto my knees, I pick up the jam jar and throw it against the wall. I'm too weak…It doesn't smash as I wish it would, only cracks slightly. It cracks more when it hits the ground, but still doesn't shatter. I crawl over to it. It stinks of the sweet substance of which it's now emptied. Cracks line the whole jar and an edge is slightly smashed in. I stand so I may kick it. Lightly. Into the wall.

That's what shatters it.

It only took one more strike and the cracked, vile container broke.

**~I Hate Everything About You~**

A few hours later and the moon is now visible through the window as I lie on the bed. Today, I do not hate the bed. Some days, I detest the feeling of the springy cushion against my back and the sheets wrapped around my body like chains. However, tonight, I am just lying on top of the soiled sheets. No matter how often he washes them—though not as often as I would prefer—the blood and jam stains won't come out.

And of course, there are the…less appropriate stains. Though, in reality, the other stains cannot be deemed appropriate by any means.

The sheets tonight mean nothing to me. If anything, I feel numb. There is something about the way he was acting before that just…numbed me. It resigned me to my fate. I wonder if I should have done something to make him stay, but when he makes up his mind, there is no changing it.

Just as I both love and hate this bed, I love and hate the moon. Sometimes, I welcome the light it brings. Tonight, I wish to lie in the dark, unable to see my failed body. The hair that falls in my face wouldn't shine so brightly if the moon were in shadow. And I wouldn't have to see the cuts and bruises tattooing my skin.

All for naught if he is coming home happy.

**~I Hate Everything About You~**

"What the hell are you doing?" I hear near daybreak. It's a new voice, one that I've never heard before. The manic cries carry through the house as stomping footsteps ring down the halls. Finally, a door slams nearby and I know the guest room is now occupied.

The man screams some more, but soon… "BB! No, please! Ahh!" BB begins to laugh and I know…oh, I know. It's all over for me. He actually did it. He found that bastard who escaped…and replaced me.

Why? Why couldn't I be good enough? I fly from my bed and to the door, but realize that I'm locked inside, no escape. So I slump against the wood and fall to my knees, tears already escaping my eyes. I thought I had resigned myself to what I knew was going to happen tonight, but…but…I just couldn't.

It doesn't take long for the laughing and screaming to die down. The raping finished, the other man is finally quiet. I remain on the floor, knowing BB is not coming anytime soon. I can hear muffled voices, calmer now, from the guest room, but cannot make out what they're saying. I gather all my strength to crawl to the adjacent wall and press my ear against it.

"Seriously, Beyond, what is that?" the bastard questions. The authority in his voice is only slightly masked by the pain probably engulfing him. How dare he use BB's real name! Even I am forbidden from using that! But BB does not respond and instead ignores the comment altogether. "Wait, wait!" A thump on the other side, possibly the horrid creature falling from the bed.

"It's not what you think," BB states and I'm wondering if he has some sort of drug.

There's some rustling and a few more thumps on the carpeted floor before a screech. I back away from the wall. What did BB just do to him? If he wanted him back, why did he give him drugs that he didn't seem to want? What if he got clean since he left?

I scurry away from the wall, still on my hands and having to crab-walk. But…but…still. How…how could he? What did he even do? What the fuck is going on? I don't want to feel sorry for the fucking bastard but how can I not?

I hear the door open, meaning BB's leaving the guest room. "I'll be back in a few minutes," he says in a voice so filled with warmth I want to throw up. I want to strangle that fucking bastard who's causing my BB to…to leave me. Unless…

He unlocks the door to my cage before I am able to even think any further. I stare up at him from the floor, too close to the wall for him not to wonder if I was spying. He smiles wickedly and struts into the room. No clothes, none. Not even boxers. And soon, I am the same as well.

He doesn't even throw me onto the bed. No, he takes me right there on the floor—the hard, wooden floor that pushes splinters into my back and shoulders, into my cheek and chest. My replacement, my original, probably high out of his mind again, can definitely hear all that is going on next door to him. It's times like this when I feel grateful BB lives in a house instead of an apartment. My screams ricochet off the barren, blood-splattered walls; I can't hold them back.

"Stop your…fucking whining…" he grunts out while thrusting into me. The only good thing about him fucking the original first is that his dick is coated in blood and semen already and is more lubricated than usual…if he he's not in a good mood and actually willing to use lube. I still can't stop the cries. "Why do you…have to…be so damn…small?" he screams. At long last, he grabs at my hair. I know what's coming. "And your fucking hair…It's not even as _soft_ as his!" He pulls my head back by my hair, causing my neck to strain. He comes inside me with a large grunt.

As he walks away, limp penis dangling between his legs without a care, he mutters, "Fucking bitch, so glad he came back to me…"

The door slams again, but is not locked. The other door opens and slams shut again and this time, I do hear a lock click. I'm not allowed inside with those two, apparently. As if I would even try…

Through the thin walls, my ears pick up BB saying, "How are you feeling, baby?" Mumbles answer. "Good…good…Feeling better?" More mumbling, to which I cannot hear BB's reply.

With a huge breath, I heave myself off the ground, able to feel the cum and blood leaking from my anus. I grab my old clothes, but don't put them on. Instead, I pad to the bathroom across the hall, my socks still on. I pull those off, too, once I get inside and barricade the door with the toiletries cabinet. There's no lock, but I like as much privacy as I can get. The cabinet is heavy, but now has an almost carved path in the tile floor from how many times I've done this.

Finally, completely worn out and every inch of my body burning, stinging, or throbbing, I turn on the shower and step in.

He didn't even let me come.

The water cascading over my skinny, pale body is ice cold.

Even with the tweezers, I cannot reach all the splinters. I send a wish with an eyelash I rub off that he will want to help me when in a better mood, before he undoubtedly kicks me out. But the likelihood of that…and the probability of a single wish…it will never come true.

**~I Hate Everything About You~**

I wake up around noon to somebody stroking my hair. I immediately jerk away, thinking it's BB come to tease me some more. Tears prickle at the corners of my eyes at the thought, but the sunlight raining through the window displays a different being. This one is more tired, more wary…and has eyes just like mine.

His hair is a deep black, just as BB describes it, sticking out in all directions like an eternal bed-head. His skin is ghostly pale, but I have beaten him in that category; he must go out in the sun more than I do…even if just barely. Oddly enough, he seems less…sickly than I would have thought he'd look, but then again, he has been living away from BB for so long.

He is only wearing a pair of low-riding jeans—meaning I can see that there is no underwear hiding underneath the coarse cloth—so I can take in all the scars and even a few fresh bruises scattered over his torso and arms. His eyes…bore into my own. Dull, dark clouds of endless sorrow.

He speaks while I continue to take him in with wide eyes, pressed against the headboard in fright from before. "Your hair is dead."

"O-of course it's dead," I reply, cursing myself for stuttering. I am no less than he is; I cannot be…But I know in the back of my head that I am less worthy than he is. "Hair is _always_ dead."

He shakes his head, his own hair traveling in different directions. "No, I mean it's…deader than it should be. And you're missing a few chunks. Some parts feel soft, like it's usually supposed to be really soft, but…it's dead."

I begin to understand what he is saying. Still… "It's not like it's your problem," I mutter.

"You should never try to be somebody you're not."

"Screw you." My face contorts in rage. How dare he say that! I am my own self. It's not my fault that BB doesn't want me! He got him back so why the hell should he even care if I tried to be like him in the past? I never succeeded, if he didn't notice. Why else would he be back now?

He cringes at my glare. "I learned that the hard way, you know," he retorts. "Why do you think I haven't left right now when that monster is asleep?"

"Don't you dare call him that!" I scream, shoving myself in his face.

He does not flinch this time, but instead stands his ground. His disgusting monotone voice inquires, "Then what should I call the beast that has forced drugs into my system and a penis into my ass? An angel? _God?_"

I yell incomprehensible words and push him away. He lands on the floor and I take pleasure from the grunt he makes on contact.

Just then, a large bang echoes throughout the room. The door has slammed open. A pissed off BB is standing in the doorway, fist raised. He begins, "What are you doing out of—Near, what the fucking hell did you do to him?" he finishes as he takes in our positions. The bastard is on the floor and I'm kneeling on my bed above him.

He rushes towards the one on the floor, momentarily ignoring me, though I know I'll get punished soon enough. "L, love, what's wrong? Are you hurt? Let me see!" He fusses over this guy, L, like there's no tomorrow. What the hell? He calls L "love" and yet calls me a bitch. He really didn't care about me at all, did he?

"I'm fine, really," L tries to calm BB down. "It was my fault—I provoked him. I'm fine, though." Is he protecting me? I don't need protection! I have been handling myself just fine for months without his goddamn help.

BB shoots me a menacing glare, and I plop down on my aching rear, the bed not providing much comfort. "Near, I think it's time for you to leave."

"W-what?" I ask, though I know exactly what he means. I was expecting this, knew it was coming. Hell, I've known this would happen since the very beginning. But…I never actually had to face it like this before, now did I?

He stands slowly, showing off the ripples in his strong chest—he's wearing the same outfit as L, only dirtier—and looks down at me. "Pack your things. I'll find a duffle bag. You're gone. I…don't…need…you. It's time to get out." His eyes glow a harsh, sickening red, but he refuses to look me straight in the eye, instead staring right above my head. He does this often when not wanting to look a person in the eye for whatever reason. He does this especially when loathing the idea of looking into _my_ eyes, so similar to…L's.

My own face hardens into a stoic, resigned expression and I nod my head. This would never have lasted anyway. He would have kicked me out once he broke me too much and my eyes didn't work on him they way they did before.

BB grabs his old lover by the upper arm and pulls him up. "You need to stay where you're told," he mutters at him while dragging him out of the room. The guest room soon slams shut and is locked.

I take that as my cue to get up. I travel around the room, deciding what I need to take with, what can fit in a duffle bag. Several sets of my clothes are in order. I do have one outfit that I can wear out of the house, since I do so rarely. The rest of my clothes are pajamas—cheaper than normal clothes by far and all BB is willing to spend on me or I am willing to waste my precious money on. Still, I have many pairs of socks, most quite dirty. I pack all but the worst anyway.

My toothbrush is old and disgusting by now; I can always buy a new one. I've been using his toothpaste, so that's another expense for me. Other than that…the few small toys I've collected from my free days. I hide them in my clothes before he comes back with the duffle bag—that he throws at my head while my back is turned. I still haven't gotten my money out, but that will be last, as I need to figure out exactly how to hide that.

Throughout my packing, I keep my mind as empty as possible, not wanting to think. About the past—all the memories with BB—the present—that bastard being dragged back—or the future—what will happen to me.

It's only when I am facing the front door, waiting for BB to come and unlock it, that one thought finally registers in my mind: I'm leaving. I'm not going to be with BB ever again. I'm rid of that…that…monster.

He turns around once the door is unlocked. Still avoiding my eyes by looking above me, he spits, "L says good luck. Fuck it."

I scrunch my eyebrows in confusion, not understanding why L's continually being so kind to me when he should be hating the whole fucking world. Maybe he is sorry for me? There's nothing to be sorry about…nothing. With a deep breath, I walk towards the front door. But I stop, having to face BB one more time. My chest pulls me inwards, deep pain and longing torturing me finally. I catch his eyes eventually and I can see it…

"Goodbye, BB…Beyond," I whisper. My voice is smaller than it normally is and I just don't know why. I…don't want to miss him, but I already do.

His red eyes somehow soften as they take me in—puffy white jacket too clean to actually come from this house, black hat covering most of my disgusting, "dead" hair, and white gym shoes, worn slightly from use but still rather clean. He steps closer and pulls at the hat gently, fingering my hair. I can feel it coming, the insult with which he'll leave me.

Instead, he murmurs, "Why did you even try?" before pulling me into a kiss. It's not hard or passionate or rough or even that deep. It's simply a…goodbye kiss.

And then his hands pull my hat back down, turn me around, and shove me out the front door. The door slams behind me before I can even understand what just happened. Was that just…the compassion I thought I would never feel again?

I take a shaky step forward, off the front stoop. And that's when it hits me. Where the hell am I going to live now?

**~I Hate Everything About You~**

His hands are harsh and dig straight through my skin to my very bones. His eyes have no compassion, no love, only pure hatred and anger. I can't help but scream out in pain, though I know he hates it and hurts me that much more. And then…he finishes and pushes me away. And I'm left there, panting, broken.

"Near?" a voice echoes in my head but it doesn't sound like either one that ever appears in my dream. Neither of the black haired demons or angles or however they appear. I whimper, needing to escape this prison they've locked me in.

A bright light breaks open the prison cell and I shout, "No!" though I don't know why. Maybe I just don't want someone invading this world I've set up for myself. No, nobody else can enter my world; it's mine, it's all I have left.

"Near, buddy, it's alright. It's just Matt. I'm here for you," I hear. I know that voice…I know it…Is he really here, though?

"Matt?" I question as I unfold my arms from my eyes. What is he doing in my prison? Unless…

I can barely see his face with my eyes squinting from the light, but I can just make out a warm smile. "I'm right here, Near," he whispers. Relief and realization spread through me and I wrap my arms around him in a hug.

Matt, my best and only friend, let me move in after I appeared at his door over a month ago. He let me sleep, well…anywhere, really. He…had a boyfriend, Mello, who was a drug addict. In fact, his connection was…

Anyway, I really just slept wherever Mello wasn't passed out or had dirtied. Now, I sleep in Mello's old room. He's gone, thanks to me.

There's no reason for my best friend, whom I hadn't seen in months, not since I moved in with…my ex, to have to suffer through such an abusive relationship. Only once I saw what Mello was doing to Matt did I finally realize what had happened to me. I couldn't let him continually be tortured like that, losing not just his money, but also himself. I could see his sanity slowly slipping away. I realized…mine had slipped away, too. That's why I've started getting these nightmares. I don't, can't miss him anymore, and instead…I hate him. That's what. I hate that bastard who raped me just like Mello raped Matt.

Somehow, I was able to convince Matt to dump Mello. While he still does seem just as miserable, if not more so, than before, I can tell that he's slowly perking up. It's just a matter of time. They dated for far longer than I had been with my ex, but the relationship had lost most of its, well…connection…love.

I slowly slip back into sleep, feeling Matt's warm, comforting arms around me still. I can't remember the last time I felt this, these protective arms. I missed them. Yes, these arms I missed.

**~I Hate Everything About You~**

"Don't forget to ask about that promotion," I say over breakfast a couple of weeks later. Somehow, a normal routine has been established. In a way, I miss my old schedule, but it is pretty nice being awake during the day. The sun is out and I can stare out the window all I want at the fluffy, white clouds. I had made breakfast again, as I began doing a month ago, once Matt finally let go of his past.

He breaths out a sigh. "Fine, fine," he mutters, shoving food into his mouth. We eat in a comfortable silence until all the food is gone. I stand and clear the dishes, bringing them to the sink to wash.

I turn around to see Matt leaning back in his chair, balancing on its two back legs. I chuckle, but warn, "I keep telling you, you're gonna get hurt if you keep doing that."

"Ah, what are you, my mother?" he retorts.

"No!" I answer. That would be beyond gross…and quite confusing.

He slams back down onto all four legs and then stands, chair scraping against the floor. "Alright, gonna head out," he announces before walking around the table. As he passes by me, he plants a swift kiss on my cheek, and then keeps going. At the kitchen entrance, he pauses. "Um…" he begins, turning around.

"Have a nice day," I call out, turning around myself so he won't be able to catch the blush on my cheeks. He grunts and then runs out of the apartment.

Matt had never done that before and yet…it felt too natural. Maybe…maybe something like this is what I need? I could always pursue a relationship with him, even if he is my best friend and would never feel the same way about me. I had always had a slight crush on him anyway…but I thought that was gone long ago, especially when we each began actually dating other men.

Then again, here we are, both single and both in need of comfort…

I slam down the pan I am cleaning and wipe my hands on a dishrag. With quick strides, I head towards the hall closet, where I drag out a few boxes stowed away in there and climb atop them. I reach into the very back of the highest shelf, fingers scraping against my duffle bag. I drag it towards me and pull out the last of the money I horded from BB. I had told Matt weeks ago that I'd stolen it from him, not wanting my friend to know exactly what went on in that house.

Throwing the bag back into the closet, I jump back down and push the boxes back where they belong. Once everything looks like how it once did, I pull on my shoes, coat, and hat and head out, locking the door behind me.

My mind flits through the images I have of the toys lining my bedroom floor. I finally have the freedom to spend this money how I want. I finally have the freedom to smile on my own, smile for myself. I finally have the ability to say that I hate him, hate that monster, Beyond—I can finally call him by his first name and not feel invisible chains constricting around my throat.

I finally can lock that door behind myself and lock away those feelings, those horrid feelings. I don't need him, never needed him. I never needed someone to show me what pain is only so I can say that I have learned what love is.

**~I Hate Everything About You~**

_I thought you'd never come this far  
I thought your words meant something more  
Said my two cents now it's your turn  
So stand up and scream  
Are you ready_

_So you think you know how this story goes  
Are you ready for this_

_Sit down  
Are you ready for this  
Shut up  
Are you ready for this  
Stand up  
Are you ready for this  
Restrain  
Are you ready_

~ "Are You Ready" by Three Days Grace

**~I Hate Everything About You~**

**Author's Notes: When first deciding to use "I Hate..." for Near's title song, I didn't realize that it also says that BB loves him to and stuff like that. So...I chose the best part of the lyrics to describe what I figured I would make their relationship. I actually have to thank that process, because it made me analyze and therefore deepen their relationship. Speaking of that, did you catch the symbolism throughout the story, especially with the locked doors?**

**Man, sorry it took over 3,000 words to get Near out of BB's place. There was just no end to it, I guess. And yet...there wasn't much to cover after that, since that was where the real mess of things happened. We just needed Near's constant berating of Matt to get him to dump Mello, a nightmare or two, a mention of the toys, and then a husband-leaving-for-work kiss. Those could all be fairly short, which they were...and mashed together quite a bit.**

**In case you don't really understand, because I didn't make it too clear, but didn't think it fit in to say it: I have a firm belief that Near's hair is not naturally white. It's just too...I don't know, weird? So, his hair was probably brown or something 'cause I said so. But, according to what he said, he's tried dying his hair black before but it didn't work out the many times that he did ((or maybe other colors?)) so he bleached it. BB probably freaked 'cause he knew it wasn't L sitting there, but maybe it was and he was going insane. So, that's why his hair is white. End of story.**

**It is beyond weird to write this story when I've never been abused or an abuser in such a relationship as this. I've read some things on abuse and stuff, so I really had to get into Near's shoes to do this. It was hard and painful, but I really like the outcome, even if it took way too many sittings to write.**

**Thank you for reading this very painful story. Next is L… "Time of Dying." No, there's no dying going on. You already know he's alive and well at the end ((remember a line from Matt's chapter? And the scene from Mello's?)). You've already seen how Near's lived with BB, how Light remembers L, and how L's acted with both Near and Mello – two months apart, mind you. I wonder how he'll be with his own thoughts…**


End file.
